


Intimacy

by grahamcracker76



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Getting Together, Hannibal (TV) Season/Series 01, M/M, Touch-Starved Will Graham, Will Graham Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26029993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamcracker76/pseuds/grahamcracker76
Summary: "I'm not usually so good with… touch," Will explains hesitantly."It makes you uncomfortable," Hannibal surmises.Will avoids his gaze. "Yes."Hannibal is silent for a moment, studying Will carefully. "You let me touch you," he says.*A love story, as told through simple acts of intimacy. This is how Hannibal and Will learn to let each other in.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 303





	1. Breakfast For Two

**Author's Note:**

> So I have this headcanon that Will is at least somewhat touch-starved. I think he's the kind of person who wouldn't welcome casual touches, so I thought: what if Hannibal saw this and decided to test Will's boundaries? At first, it begins as part of his professional interest in Will, but then it soon becomes much more personal in nature.
> 
> The first few sections follow canon closely… then we'll start to get into AU territory while still sticking pretty close to canon. I hope you enjoy this soft and fluffy version of season one. (:

It starts when Will opens the motel room door to find Hannibal Lecter standing there in what Will assumes must be his version of "casual" - elegant trousers, a collared shirt left open at the neck, and a soft v-neck sweater. Will looks the doctor up and down consideringly. Hannibal looks good enough to eat, but Will hastily puts the thought from his mind. The man is a psychiatrist - decidedly  _ not _ Will's type. Meanwhile, Will is well aware that he hadn't exactly made the best impression at their first meeting, and he knows that after meeting him once, most people usually don't take the initiative to seek him out again. So why is Doctor Lecter back for more?

Hannibal seems to sense his discomfort and gives him an easy smile, holding up a set of containers. "I brought breakfast," he says. "May I come in?"

Will blinks at him. It's too early for this sort of thing, he thinks. Usually, he has no problem working his way out of unwanted socializing, but he can't think of a way to send Hannibal off without appearing rude. Hannibal did come to him, after all, and the breakfast does smell deliciously tempting. Will suppresses a sigh. Hannibal seems to have a knack for surprising him - he'll have to remember that.

"Sure, come in," he says reluctantly, and steps back from the door. "Where is Jack?" he asks as Hannibal crosses to the table and produces two plates, a thermos of coffee, and hands Will a container of food.

Hannibal's lips quirk, and he looks at Will knowingly. Will avoids his gaze and tips the food onto his plate - it proves to be a sausage and egg scramble that looks just as good as it smells.

"Jack is deposed in court," Hannibal explains. "The adventure is yours and mine today - unless you think we need a chaperone?"

Will snorts - he can't help it. "I don't find you  _ that _ interesting, doctor - don't worry, you're safe from me."

"Not entirely safe, I hope," Hannibal says, his eyes bright with laughter. "You know, I think Uncle Jack sees you as the finest china, only used for special guests."

Will ponders the statement as he sits back in his chair to study Hannibal, who appears unusually loose-limbed and approachable as he sits across from Will in this dingy motel room. His face is illuminated by the morning light filtering through the drapes, and Will is vividly reminded of a Rembrandt painting.  _ Chiaroscuro, _ he thinks - the contrast of light and shadow, used to create the illusion of a light source. He wonders: how much of Hannibal is real, and how much is an illusion? He hasn't known Hannibal long, but already he can tell that much of what the doctor presents to the world is a carefully constructed mask. Maybe he spoke too soon - maybe Hannibal is more interesting than he first expected.

"And how do you see me, Doctor Lecter?" he asks, picking up the threads of their conversation as he scoops up a mouthful of eggs and sausage. It really is delicious - he must have been hungrier than he realized.

Hannibal's eyes look like molten amber in the half-darkness, luminous and gleaming. "You are the mongoose I want under the house when the snake slithers by."

Well, there's really no response to that, Will thinks. The two of them look at each other for a few moments, and there is something in the air between them… Will's not sure, but he thinks it might be  _ understanding,  _ on a deeper level than he's felt in a long time. He thinks he gets what Hannibal is saying: Jack and the others look at him and assume that he's weak and breakable. Hannibal looks at him and sees someone strong. Will feels himself flush - the thought makes him feel warmer than it probably should.

"This is delicious," he says, turning the conversation back to the food in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

Hannibal gives him a faint smile but goes along with his obvious avoidance tactic with good grace. "A protein scramble to start the day," he says. "I am careful about what I put into my body, which means that I usually end up preparing most of my food myself."

Will nods and tries not to let himself think about what else Hannibal  _ puts in his body… _ that way lies madness. "Well, if you ever give up psychiatry, you have a promising career in the making," he says. "My compliments to the chef."

"It was my pleasure," Hannibal replies, and Will can hear that he is entirely genuine. "I enjoy cooking - I only ask for good company in return."

"Most people wouldn't call me good company," Will feels obliged to mention.

Hannibal smiles at him. "You will soon find, Will, that I am not  _ most people." _

Will studies him. "Yeah," he says, "I'm starting to get that."

They finish the rest of their meal in relative silence. Hannibal lets Will eat and doesn't press conversation on him, for which Will is grateful. Constant conversation is always so exhausting for him, and Hannibal seems to understand that. It is quiet, and unexpectedly comfortable. Will slowly lets himself relax.

At some point, Hannibal's leg presses against his under the table, whether on purpose or by accident, and Will surprises himself by not moving away. He usually avoids physical contact by habit and inclination, but the pressure of Hannibal's leg against his is warm and firm, and Will can't bring himself to pull away. Something about the man feels very… solid. Dependable.

Will hasn't even thought of pursuing a romantic relationship in a long time, but in this moment, he lets himself dream of closeness and comfort and warmth. It's ridiculous, of course. He's already decided that Doctor Lecter is not his type, and besides, he's just met the man. But surely there's no harm in wondering what it might be like. So as they sit together in silence and finish the rest of the coffee, Will indulges in a rare daydream. If only the dreams that came to him at night were so pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is so #extra, barging into Will's motel room because he can't wait to hear what Will thought of the crime scene he created for him. Isn't he adorable?


	2. What Are Friends For?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will is starting to let Hannibal in. Meanwhile, Hannibal is growing more interested by the day...

"Will," Hannibal says upon opening the door precisely at 7:30. "Do come in."

"Thanks," Will tells him shortly. He pointedly ignores the two chairs sitting in the middle of the room and instead explores the rest of the office, studying the rows of books with interest. 

"It was my understanding that you did not wish to be psychoanalyzed," Hannibal says.

"I don't," Will agrees, "but apparently it's required after use of deadly force, so… here I am."

Hannibal gives him a polite smile as Will continues to walk aimlessly around his office, unwilling to settle anywhere, because settling would mean that he tacitly agrees to the proceedings, when he very obviously does not.

"And how does that make you feel?" Hannibal asks.

Will lets out a short laugh. "The use of deadly force or being sent to your office to have my brain picked apart?"

"Both. Either."

Will says nothing. He knows that whichever option he picks, it will  _ tell _ Hannibal something, and he's not sure how much he wants to reveal. Unfortunately, it seems revealing  _ something  _ is unavoidable. "You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed," he says. "It just doesn't work on me. I know all the tricks."

Hannibal studies him. "Perhaps you simply will not  _ allow _ our "tricks," as you say, to "work" on you, through force of will alone. Perhaps you are afraid of what you might learn."

Will avoids his gaze. There is a ladder that leads to more books on an upper level - Will decides to climb it. He is not  _ running away, _ he thinks fiercely - he is making a strategic retreat. "I am not  _ afraid,"  _ he says.

He can see the curve of Hannibal's smile clearly even from above, and he knows he's blundered right into Hannibal's trap. "Then perhaps you would not mind having an honest conversation in lieu of official sessions," he says. "I have your papers for Jack here, already signed. I think you will find that everything is in order."

Caught off guard, Will looks down to see Hannibal holding a folder, papers in hand. He hesitates. "I'm not sure that's entirely ethical, Doctor."

"My primary concern is not with ethics," Hannibal says. "My primary concern is helping my patients. You are not my patient, Will, but I would like to help you nonetheless. I will do that in whatever way I can, and this solution seemed… expedient."

For a long moment, Will doesn't know what to say. Then, he takes a deep breath.  _ "Why?" _

Hannibal seems puzzled by the question. "What are friends for?"

Will's breath catches in his throat. "I wouldn't know," he says quietly. "I'm not so good with friends."

Hannibal smiles. "I wouldn't know," he echoes. "You seem perfectly friendly to me."

You're the only one, Will thinks. Worry niggles at the back of his mind… what if this is just another tactic? What if this is just a clever way to earn Will's trust to entice him to open up and find out what makes him tick? But at the same time, no one has ever done anything remotely like this for him before, and he'll admit that the idea is… tempting. Hannibal is unusually easy to talk to, and Will suspects he might understand him more than most.

As he hesitates, Hannibal breaks into his thoughts again. "Will? Why don't you come down so we can talk? We'll just have a conversation, that's all."

"Just a conversation," Will repeats, turning the idea over in his head. "Yes. Okay."

At the end of his hour, Hannibal sees Will to the door. It was simultaneously worse and better than Will had imagined… worse, because he hadn't imagined actually telling Hannibal anything, and better, because Hannibal was unlike any psychiatrist he had seen. He didn't push. He didn't bother with leading questions. And aside from that first time, he never asked Will "how he felt" about anything. He simply let Will talk, and he listened. It was unexpectedly refreshing.

_ Is this what it's like to have a friend? _ Will wonders. He doesn't have enough experience to know. So before he leaves, he turns back to Hannibal, the prim and proper Doctor Lecter he'd had such a poor opinion of on their first meeting. How things have changed.

"Doctor Lecter..." he says, taking off his glasses and meeting Hannibal's gaze head on. After what just transpired, he feels the man deserves it. "Thank you."

Hannibal smiles, and warmth comes into his face, softening his chiseled features. "Any time, Will," he says. "And please - call me Hannibal."

Will nods. First names are an intimate thing, but if they aren't doctor and patient, it's a small concession to make. "It was good to see you, Hannibal," he says.

He offers his hand, and Hannibal shakes it without hesitation.  _ Hannibal  _ obviously has no problem with physical contact, Will thinks ruefully.  _ Hannibal  _ probably isn't categorizing the pressure and feel of Will's skin against his;  _ Hannibal  _ probably isn't counting the seconds they're touching; it's probably an act of little to no significance to him. But it is  _ very _ significant to Will, who usually makes a point to avoid physical contact at all costs.

As he leaves Hannibal's office, Will replays that moment again and again - the eye contact, and the handshake. How could it mean so much to one and so little to another?  _ God, I'm a mess, _ he thinks. He feels the remembered warmth of Hannibal's skin against his own for a long time.


	3. Were It Not That I Have Bad Dreams

Will startles into awareness to Hannibal's hands on his shoulders and the urgency of his voice.

"Will," he is saying.  _ "Will.  _ Are you with me?"

Will's vision blurs, and he draws in an unsteady breath, scrubbing a hand across his face. Hannibal's face swims into focus and Will sways slightly in his grasp, confused. Hannibal's? How did he get here?

"Hannibal," he says. "What time is it?" Because he's not wearing a watch, he sees. He's not wearing much of anything. He's in his boxers and and a white t-shirt, and if that wasn't enough embarrassment, his legs are covered in dirt.

But to his relief, Hannibal is not looking at him like he's crazy. Hannibal's eyes are kind, and his hands are warm. "It is 2am," he says. "Your name is Will Graham, and you are in Baltimore, Maryland."

Will huffs a laugh. "Did I look like I needed a reminder?"

"It is a simple technique to ground yourself," Hannibal explains. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"I… there was a field. I was outside and then… I don't remember driving here. I don't remember…"

"Will, listen to me," Hannibal says. "When you have experienced a traumatic event, your brain might shut down to protect you. Especially with your empathy, it will want to take you somewhere safe, and that is just what happened."

Will looks at him. "So it brought me here," he says, "to you." He heaves a sigh and puts his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Now that he thinks about it, Hannibal is most definitely in his pajamas - red and white striped bottoms and a deep red pullover that looks inredibly soft. He'd gotten Hannibal out of bed, Will realizes, and feels more mortified than ever. "I'll just go now," he says, but Hannibal shakes his head.

"Don't be ridiculous," he says. "You must stay here."

"I can't put you out like that," Will protests, to no avail.

"It is no trouble," Hannibal tells him firmly. "I would never dream of letting you drive home at this time, and besides, would you deprive me of the pleasure of cooking you breakfast again? It is you who would be doing me the favor, Will."

Will doesn't have the energy to argue. He lets Hannibal lead him into a part of the house he's never seen before, away from the office. Hannibal's house is really  _ big, _ he realizes. Of course, he knew that just from the outside, but seeing the inside is… different. It looks like something that could be a museum. Hannibal's house is spacious and tastefully opulent, and Will can tell that it is full of priceless antiques. Well, Will feels like an antique at the moment, so he tells himself that must mean that he fits right in.

Hannibal leads him upstairs to a comfortable guest room with a bed that looks much nicer than Will's sweat-soaked mattress at Wold Trap. Hannibal sits him on the bed and frowns at his dirt-smudged boxer/t-shirt ensemble. "One moment," he says, "I will get you something to change into."

Before Will has the chance to re-think his entire life, Hannibal returns in a few minutes with flannel pajama bottoms and a soft cotton shirt. Then, he seems to hesitate, looking at Will's muddy legs. "Will you allow me to draw you a bath?"

He meets Will's gaze, and Will's overtired brain goes into overdrive, imagining just the type of bath Hannibal might be talking about. It would likely be one of those great freestanding claw-footed tubs, he thinks dazedly, one that would probably fit both of them. Hannibal would slide in behind him and scrub the dirt from his legs and wash his hair…

Will shakes his head and swallows, banishing the thought.  _ Not now, _ he thinks. Now, he just has to get through the night (morning) without embarrassing himself too much. "No thanks," he says, "I'll just have a shower. I promise I won't get lost."

Hannibal smiles. "If you need me, I'm just down the hall," he says. "Last door on your right."

Will nods, avoiding Hannibal's gaze. He feels Hannibal's hands on his shoulders, his voice in his ear:  _ it will want to take you somewhere safe. _ He had never consciously considered Hannibal as someone  _ safe, _ in fact quite the opposite, but apparently his subconscious knew himself better than he did.  _ Wouldn't be the first time, _ he thinks ruefully.

"Hannibal," he says before the other man turns to leave. Hannibal looks at him with a raised brow. He looks soft and touchable like this, in his pajamas with his hair falling into his eyes, and Will suddenly regrets refusing the offered bath. "Thank you," Will says, and he knows that doesn't even begin to cover it. He tries to put into his tone all the things he hasn't yet found the words to say.

Hannibal seems to understand, because he smiles, and his eyes soften. "Of course," he says. "I will see you in the morning. Good night, Will."

"Good night, Hannibal," Will echoes. He steps into the bathroom, his head full of Hannibal. He showers, and he tries to believe himself free of his dreams. He falls into bed in Hannibal's pajamas, and he tries not to think of anything at all. In the morning, Hannibal will cook him breakfast. In the morning, Will will think about what, exactly, he feels for Hannibal Lecter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never be over Hannibal looking so soft in his pajamas and neither will Will.


	4. Breakfast, Redux

In the morning, Will wakes up feeling slightly more human. Maybe there is some sense in Hannibal's surely ridiculously high thread count sheets after all, because the rest of his night passed undisturbed and dreamless. He splashes water on his face and brushes his teeth with the spare toothbrush by the sink. He stares at himself in the mirror consideringly. His face looks pale and worn, but that is to be expected after a night like his. His hair is a mess, but Hannibal is used to that, so Will simply runs his fingers through it in a halfhearted attempt to tame it and leaves it be.

He doesn't have anything to change into, so he makes his way downstairs in his (Hannibal's) pajamas, following his nose to the kitchen. He finds Hannibal already at work, sliding a pastry dish into the oven. Classical music is playing softly from a radio in the corner, and Hannibal is humming along under his breath. Will smiles - the man is more endearing than he ever thought possible.

"Will," Hannibal says upon turning around and noticing him standing in the doorway. He smiles, wide and genuine, and Will lets the warmth of his regard spread through him. "Good morning. I have coffee ready. Or I could make tea, if you prefer."

"Coffee is great, thanks," Will says, accepting the offered mug. "What are you making?"

"Quiche Lorraine," Hannibal tells him as he swiftly peels and chops an onion. "A simple and yet versatile dish. Would you care to sous-chef?"

Will hesitates. "I'm not much of a cook," he says.

Hannibal raises a brow. "Can you grate cheese?"

Will rolls his eyes. "I think I can manage that."

Hannibal grins, smile lines fanning out around his eyes. "Then we will need ¼ cup of grated parmesan, and 1 cup of cubed Gruyere."

Will rounds the island to step in beside Hannibal and begins grating the parmesan into a bowl. Hannibal steps around him and tips his freshly cooked bacon onto a plate before sliding the onions onto the same skillet where they hiss and bubble in the hot bacon fat.

"That smells amazing," Will says, because it's true. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"At my boarding school in Paris," Hannibal says as he cracks eggs into a bowl.

Will glances at him. "So does that mean you know French?"

Hannibal smiles at him. "Do you require a demonstration?"

Will flushes and looks away. "No, no," he says. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Four," Hannibal says.

Will whistles. "Most people barely speak one." Hannibal opens his mouth, and Will rolls his eyes. "I know, I know," he says. "You're not most people."

"Good." Hannibal sounds pleased. "You are catching on." He turns to the oven to take out the pastry. At his request, Will spreads the bacon, cheese, and onions on the pastry surface and Hannibal pours the egg mixture over it with care. "Excellent," Hannibal says. He slides the tray back into the oven and turns to Will. "That will take about twenty minutes to cook. In the meantime, why don't we talk about your current case?"

As they talk, Will feels himself relaxing. With Hannibal, conversation always comes easy, which is something Will can say of so few of his acquaintances. With most people, Will can't wait for a conversation to be over and finds ways to end it early if it proves too tedious or awkward. But with Hannibal, conversation is never boring or stilted, and Will is always surprised to find himself wanting to know more.

Will is always wanting more when it comes to Hannibal, it seems. Will looks at Hannibal, and he thinks he may have rushed to judgement when he decided that Hannibal wasn't his type. Hannibal is proving to be his type in many ways. Perhaps that should scare him, but he has never felt more alive.

"Will?" Hannibal says, breaking into Will's thoughts, and Will blinks, realizing that he had been silent for several minutes now. Hannibal doesn't look annoyed, though - he just smiles. "Where did you go?"

Will gives a rueful laugh. "Just my head - sorry. It tends to get… noisy in there sometimes. Easy to get lost."

Hannibal passes him on his way to the oven and places a hand on his shoulder, an echo of his touch the night before. Will looks up at him, and their gazes lock and hold. The air seems to simmer between them, alive with possibility. "Don't go inside, Will," Hannibal says. "Stay here, with me."

"Where else would I go?" Will says.  _ I don't want to be anywhere else, _ he thinks.  _ Just here, with you. _

Hannibal smiles. "Never apologize for being who you are, Will," he says as he sets the quiche on the table between them and hands Will a plate. "You are endlessly fascinating, even if you cannot see it yourself."

Will hesitates. "Are you speaking out of professional interest, or personal?"

Hannibal's lips twitch as he gives him a sidelong glance. "My interest in you is becoming decidedly more personal in nature as the days pass," he says. "Will that be a problem for you, Will?"

"No," Will says hastily. "No problem."

"Then you and I are just alike," Hannibal says, raising his glass, "problem free."

They finish the meal in comfortable silence, but through it all, Will is aware of the current of energy stirring between them, full of tempting possibilities. It feels like walking a tightrope, Will thinks, like they are both treading lightly to the other side knowing that one wrong step will send them hurtling towards the ground. He knows this isn't sustainable - at some point, one of them will have to make a move. At this point, the only question is when.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, this is the recipe for Quiche Lorraine that Hannibal and Will are following. I have never made it from scratch, bit I have had it many times and it is delicious!  
> https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1018126-quiche-lorraine
> 
> Domestic Hannibal and Will is my catnip. There are many levels of intimacy, and seeing someone you have feelings for at home in your house is one of them. Our boys are finally starting to come to terms with what they feel for each other...


	5. The Start Of Something New

Will is finishing a lecture when he notices Hannibal standing near the door. He pauses for a moment, caught off guard - Alana and Jack are the only people who have visited his classroom before. He smiles at Hannibal, a hesitant welcome, and continues with the lecture.

"Garrett Jacob Hobbs did not kill this girl," he says, displaying the picture of Cassie Boyle mounted on the antlers. "This killer wanted us to know that he is not the Minnesota Shrike - he is better. He is an intelligent psychopath, and he may never kill like this again. So how do we catch him?"

As his students file out, Hannibal steps up to his desk. "A lecture on the Minnesota Shrike and his copycat?" he asks, raising a brow.

"They're our best and brightest," Will says wryly, "they deserve to know what's happening. And I'm sure Jack would say we need as many heads working on this as we can get."

"I doubt any of them could understand our copycat as well as you already do," Hannibal says, studying him with interest. "You empathize with him."

Will huffs a laugh. "I can empathize with anyone; that's not the problem. The trouble is, what our copycat does is so singularly horrible I'm afraid if I get too close I'll become lost in it."

"And yet you also admire him," Hannibal states, seeming entirely unsurprised when Will does not deny it. "There is a great and terrible beauty in his work."

"It was… breathtaking," Will agrees quietly. "Arguably, he took what Hobbs did and elevated it to art. I've never seen anything like it." He looks up at Hannibal, a frown on his face. "You know, I can't help thinking that crime scene was basically gift-wrapped like it was meant for me, to show me what I was missing."

Hannibal smiles. "You think you may have an admirer," he interprets.

"Let's hope not," Will says, rolling his eyes. "I get enough of that from my students." He sees a few of them straggling behind, watching him and Hannibal with undue interest and waves them along with a long-suffering smile.

"They have good taste," Hannibal says, "your students and your admirer, though I must admit I find myself reluctant to share you with anyone."

Will flushes under the praise, and he feels anticipation thrumming just under his skin. Is this the moment?

"I was wondering if I might take you to lunch," Hannibal says, considerately avoiding Will's gaze.

Will hesitates. "Lunch as in… lunch with friends? Or a lunch that leads to... something more?"

Hannibal smiles and moves closer, placing his hand over Will's where it is clenched on the edge of the desk. Will draws in a startled breath but does not move away.

"This can be whatever you need it to be," Will," Hannibal says softly. "However, if I have not made my regard for you clear, it seems I must do better in the future."

"No, it's clear," Will says, glancing up at Hannibal with a small smile. "It's just… are you  _ sure? _ I'm not going to pretend that it's going to be a walk in the park if we do this. I'm not exactly anyone's idea of a candidate for a normal relationship."

Hannibal cups Will's face with his other hand and gently strokes his temple with his thumb. "Then we are lucky that I am well aware of what you think of as your faults," he murmurs. "And I am also well aware of your many fine qualities which you often overlook, and this puts me in the perfect position to remind you of them. Neither of us are entirely normal, Will, and I would not have it any other way. Yes. I am  _ very  _ sure."

Will's heart thunders in his chest. No one has ever said anything remotely like that to him before. Hannibal is… impossible and perfect, and for some reason he wants to be  _ Will's. _ The idea seems ludicrous, and yet when Hannibal says it, Will can tell he means it. There's only one response to that, really.

He leans up and presses his lips to Hannibal's. He is tentative at first, testing the feel of Hannibal's lips against his, the warmth and the pressure. He hasn't done this in a while, any of it, and this level of closeness is both exciting and terrifying at the same time… and yet, in spite of all that, it feels staggeringly  _ right. _ He lets out a sigh and parts his lips, opening up for Hannibal as his eyelids slide closed and he gives himself over to sensation.

Hannibal is soft and gentle at first, listening to Will's cues and letting him dictate the pace. Their tongues seek each other out and tangle together languorously. It is a dance, Will thinks, a give and take, an extension of who they are together. It is beautiful.

He twists his hand in Hannibal's and fits their fingers together, another point of connection. Hannibal moans and pulls him closer still in response. He is kissing him in earnest now, deep and searching, and Will gives back as good as he gets. He lets his other hand slide up Hannibal's back until his fingers tangle in his hair, which is just as soft and smooth as he had imagined.

"Hannibal," Will moans, and Hannibal nips lightly on his lower lip, tugging it briefly into his mouth. When they finally pull apart, Will is gasping and flushed, and a little more than half-hard. Hannibal also looks pleasingly disheveled, his clothes askew, his eyes glassy, and his hair a mess.

_ I just kissed Hannibal Lecter, _ Will thinks dazedly as he traces Hannibal's lips with his thumb. Hannibal licks at his thumb teasingly, and Will breaks out in nervous laughter. "Wow," he says, breathless, and Hannibal smiles, nudging his nose alongside Will's.

"My thoughts exactly," he says. "So I take it we are in agreement?" Will frowns in response, and Hannibal leans in for a chaste kiss. "Lunch, and… more," Hannibal elaborates, stroking his fingers through Will's hair.

Will smiles, unable to contain the flow of happiness spreading through him.  _ This is really happening, _ he thinks. He raises their joined hands to his lips and brushes his lips over Hannibal's knuckles. "Yes," he says. "We are in agreement. For lunch, and whatever comes next."

"Good," Hannibal says. He kisses Will softly, and it feels like a promise. It feels like the start of something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I am well aware of your many fine qualities which you often overlook" - if you recognized the BBC Sherlock reference, props to you! This is a reference to the line from "The Sign of Three" - "he has many fine qualities of his own he has overlooked in his obsession with me."  
> Also: you can totally tell Hannibal was more than a little turned on listening to Will's lecture about himself. That little pleased smirk on his face… he was definitely thinking "bae appreciates my work. now that's hot."


	6. A Day At Wolf Trap

A few weeks later, Will wakes one morning to an empty bed and the quiet sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen. He stretches lazily and smiles as his muscles ache with a pleasant soreness, sending his mind into overdrive as he remembers everything they did last night.

He remembers Hannibal's hands, moving over his bare skin with something akin to reverence. He remembers Hannibal's lips and tongue, drawing out new sounds from Will with each clever touch, making him beg for more, and more, and more. He remembers drinking Hannibal's answering moans from his lips, and knowing that he would never get enough. He remembers how it felt, to move together as one.  _ Beautiful, _ he thinks, not for the first time, or the last.

He wanders out into the kitchen to see Hannibal whisking egg whites in a bowl in nothing but a pair or Will's boxers and his red sweater. The dogs are gathered around the counter watching him avidly - several of them swivel to look at Will for a moment before turning back to Hannibal. Will smiles fondly. He doesn't blame them - Hannibal is definitely the most interesting thing in the room at the moment.

"Hey, Winston," he says, scratching the dog's ears gently as he passes, heading for the coffee.

Hannibal turns towards him with a smile. "Will," he says, leaning in for a kiss and looking startled when Will pulls away.

"Sorry," Will says, avoiding his gaze and gripping his mug tightly to stop his hands from shaking. "It's not you, I just… I need to process, I need..."

Hannibal looks at him closely and doesn't say a word. Will doesn't see any judgement or disappointment in his expression, but he does look politely curious, and suddenly Will can't stand it. His throat tightens and his stomach heaves. He's going to have to  _ explain _ it now, isn't he? Things were going so well and then Will had to go and throw a wrench in the works and now Hannibal is looking at him with his kind eyes, and Will can't take it anymore, so he does the only thing he can: he bolts.

At times like this, Will thinks, living out in the middle of nowhere does have its disadvantages: he has nowhere  _ to _ bolt, unless he gets in his car and drives away, and he has not sunk quite as low as that. So instead, he sits heavily on the front porch as some of the dogs follow him out, and takes a moment to regret his entire life.

"What a mess, eh, Buster?" he says conversationally, scratching the dog behind his ears as he lays his head in Will's lap. "The thing is, you're used to it. Hannibal isn't. What if he decides he doesn't  _ want  _ to get used to it?"

Of course, Buster has no answers for him - he is merely glad for the attention. As the dogs gambol about the yard, they seem entirely unconcerned with the secrets of life, the universe, and everything - their only concern is enjoying themselves as much as possible.

Maybe there's a lesson to be learned in that, but Will has never been able to emulate them. He gets too lost in his head; too lost in his thoughts; too wrapped up in other people until he loses himself. For him, any relationship is always a delicate balancing act, and sometimes he fails… sometimes he ends up pushing the other person away in order to save what is left of himself. But he doesn't  _ want _ to push Hannibal away. He knows that he is a better version of himself when he is with Hannibal… he just needs to figure out how to be with Hannibal without losing himself. Other people don't have this kind of problem, surely, he thinks… it's his own special brand of crazy.

He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee, watching as the steam curls in the air. He tries not to wonder what Hannibal could be thinking inside. He thinks of Hannibal's skin on his the night before, and remembers how safe he'd felt in the other man's embrace. And then today… "Why does this have to be so hard, Buster?" he asks, shaking his head. Buster just licks his face, and Will laughs. "I know, it doesn't have to be," he says. "I'm making a real mess of this, aren't I?"

The door creaks open behind him, and Will startles. "You have made a mess of nothing, Will," Hannibal states, draping a warm blanket around Will's shoulders and sitting down on the porch beside him. "If you are imagining that I was offended, then I am afraid I must disabuse you of the notion." He looks at Will, and his eyes are warm. "You have nothing to apologize for, Will. No explanations are necessary. I understand."

Will huffs a laugh. "Well good, because even I don't understand sometimes." He pauses, looking out over the yard as the dogs chase each other in circles, barking excitedly. Sammy comes over to sniff tentatively at Hannibal's hands, and he gives the dog a few scratches, to Sammy's delight. Will notices that Hannibal sat himself a few inches apart from Will, and he knows this was done deliberately, out of consideration for Will. The thought leaves him simultaneously comforted and ashamed, and he blinks against the sudden stinging feeling in his eyes.

"The thing is… I'm not usually so good with… touch," Will explains hesitantly.

"It makes you uncomfortable," Hannibal surmises.

Will avoids his gaze. "Yes."

Hannibal is silent for a moment, studying Will carefully. "You let me touch you," he says.

Will takes a deep breath. "Yes." He looks at Hannibal, and he sees in Hannibal's eyes that he seems to understand what a big deal this is. "But sometimes I need to process. With my empathy, touch makes everything more… intense. It can be disconcerting. Especially after something like last night, I just need time to… center myself."

Hannibal nods. "You need to process," he says, and when Will looks at him, he appears almost as though he really does understand. "I meant what I said, Will," Hannibal tells him quietly. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Will looks into Hannibal's eyes, and he believes it. He gives him a small smile, and he nods. "What are you making in there?" he asks, feeling that it is high time to change the subject.

"A cheese souffle," Hannibal answers with a smile of his own. "The recipe is Julia Child's, and it has always been one of my favorites."

"It smells amazing," Will says. 

"It will be ready in about ten minutes now," Hannibal tells him. "In the meantime, we can wait out here, if you wish."

Will smiles and leans into his side, sliding his fingers into Hannibal's hair. He kisses him soft and slow and sweet, and Hannibal holds him firm, keeping him grounded. When they pull apart, they stay in each other's space, sharing each other's breath, and Will brushes his lips to Hannibal's once more.

"No," he says, "let's go in. We've both of us been out in the cold long enough."

Hannibal rises to his feet, and Will takes his offered hand, twining their fingers together in a gesture that both of them know means so much.  _ Maybe, _ Will thinks,  _ this might work out after all. _

He calls the dogs and they go inside together, back into the brightness and warmth of home. The souffle cooks in the oven as they talk of everything and nothing, and for the first time in a long while, Will thinks he knows what it truly means to be happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Graham needs a hug! Hannibal Lecter needs a hug! They deserve all the hugs.
> 
> Also: This is Julia Child's excellent cheese souffle recipe that Hannibal was using. I have used it multiple times in this 2020 quarantine season, and it is a new favorite of mine. The hardest part is separating the eggs and not overmixing the egg whites at the end. I highly recommend trying it out!  
> https://theculinarytravelguide.com/the-jc100-cheese-souffle/


	7. I Can See Clearly Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for canon discussions of cannibalism, nothing too graphic. But really, this is Hannibal. You know what to expect already (even if Will doesn't). But if this isn't your thing, you can just skip this chapter. See the chapter end notes to know what happened.

Nothing perfect can last forever. It is an old adage, and if Will had kept it in mind, what comes next might not have been so shocking. But there is no stopping fate, and as Will is about to learn, perhaps some things in life are simply… inevitable.

Will runs for a bathroom after his realization. _He's eating them,_ he thinks, and then he's thinking about everything else that he knows about the Chesapeake Ripper. He's an intelligent psychopath. He's smart, and cultured. He appreciates art. His crime scenes always, always have a deeper meaning. His incisions are done with medical precision, so he likely is or was a surgeon or a doctor of some kind. Killing his victims gives him a feeling of power, and he eats them because to him, they are no better than pigs.

Suddenly, something Hannibal said during one of their conversations echoes in his mind: "I imagine killing feels good to God, too. He does it all the time."

 _Hannibal,_ he thinks with horror, and slides down against the door of the bathroom stall, putting his head in his hands. Hannibal fits the profile perfectly, now that he's thinking about it. Hannibal is the picture of the cultured Renaissance man, with his love of languages and music and books and art. Hannibal loves beautiful things. He also loves cooking with an almost clinical intensity, and he rarely cooks anything vegetarian. He was a surgeon, and he is now a psychiatrist, with a keen understanding of the darkest impulses of the human mind. Maybe, Will dares to think, maybe that very understanding comes from knowledge gained by personal experience. And if it does? That makes Hannibal the Chesapeake Ripper, the killer they have been chasing all along.

Will wraps his arms around his legs and stares ahead unseeingly. He thinks of all his dinners with Hannibal, all the times he and Jack and Alana sat around that table as Hannibal presented them with fabulous gourmet dishes, and he sees it in an entirely different light. _He was serving us the people he'd killed,_ Will thinks, horrified.

He feels behind him for his gun, and he holds on to it desperately as his panicked breathing escalates into hyperventilation. The feel of the cool, impersonal, deadly metal calms him down, and eventually, his breathing slows. It makes him feel powerful, Will reasons, feeling the weight of the gun in his gasp. It makes him feel powerful, to know that he has a weapon close at hand. He felt powerful killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs, and it had been Hannibal who helped him come to terms with that. Hannibal, the Chesapeake Ripper. It all makes sense now, even if it doesn't quite feel real.

With trembling fingers, he pulls out his phone and texts Hannibal: _Where are you?_

Hannibal responds quickly. _I am at home, making dinner. Would you like to join me?_

Will pauses, his fingers hovering over the screen. _Yes,_ he answers. _I'll be there soon._

Because the truth is, some part of Will suspects that he would like to join Hannibal, even knowing what he is. But first, he has to confront him, to learn how much of the Hannibal he knows is true, and how much is a lie.

Hannibal is in the kitchen when Will arrives, his hand on the gun in his pocket. Hannibal, of course, notices that something is amiss right away.

"Will?" he asks, his brow furrowing in concern. "Are you all right?"

Will gives a mirthless laugh. "Funny you should ask because I… I'm not too sure."

"Do you want to talk?" Hannibal says. "Maybe I could help."

"Yeah, I think you could," Will agrees wryly. He approaches Hannibal slowly, as though approaching a wild lion that might attack at any moment. "Because right now I'm wondering how I could think I knew you so well while at the same time I never really knew you at all."

Hannibal is quiet for a moment. He doesn't look at Will, but the tension in the air is palpable. Then, he sets down his knife on the countertop and looks up at Will, his expression guarded. "I think you'd better explain," he says.

"No, I think _you'd_ better explain," Will counters, "because we've just been profiling the Chesapeake Ripper, and you know what I realized? You fit the profile _exactly._ So tell me, Hannibal. Are you the Chesapeake Ripper?"

Hannibal opens his mouth, and then closes it again. "I don't know what you want me to say, Will," he says.

Will gives a disbelieving snort. "It's kind of a yes or no question. Are you or are you not the Chesapeake Ripper?"

"You have clearly made up your mind that I must be," Hannibal says calmly. "Therefore, I doubt that anything I say to you at this point would change your mind, Will."

"No," Will tells him fiercely _"Don't_ bullshit me, not now. Not about this." Losing all patience with Hannibal's evasion, Will draws the gun out and points it at Hannibal, rounding the island until they are standing face to face. Hannibal's expression remains impassive, but Will fancies he looks a little proud. "Tell me," Will says, "exactly how much of you was a lie? How much of _us_ was a lie?"

Hannibal raises his hands. "I never lied to you about anything important, Will," he says. "I just declined to tell you certain truths."

"Certain truths," Will echoes, "like the fact that you happen to be the killer we've been searching for all this time."

Hannibal doesn't acknowledge it - but at the same time, Will notes, he doesn't exactly deny it. "Are you a killer, Will?" Hannibal asks, as calmly as though he's asking about the weather. "You said it felt good to kill Garrett Jacob Hobbs," Hannibal continues. "Would it feel good to kill me now?"

"Garrett Jacob Hobbs was a murderer," Will says, cocking the gun fiercely. "Are _you_ a murderer, Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal studies him carefully. "Back to impersonal titles, are we?" he says. "Tell me, Will, are you more disturbed by the thought that I may be a killer, or the fear that our relationship has not been genuine?"

"Don't tell me what I'm thinking," Will says, pressing the barrel of the gun against Hannibal's temple. "I know who I am. I'm not so sure who you are, Doctor. The thing is, you left no trace," Will realizes, "that's why you were so hard to see."

"But you see me clearly now," Hannibal says, looking into Will's eyes. "Does what you see scare you, Will? Perhaps you see a reflection of yourself in my eyes, and that is what you truly find terrifying."

He makes no move to disarm Will, and for a moment, Will wonders if Hannibal would actually let him pull the trigger… if he would make no attempt to stop him. The thought makes him feel vaguely dizzy. _It makes you feel powerful,_ a voice whispers in his head that sounds suspiciously like Hannibal.

Will thinks about killing Hannibal, and he trembles all over. He can't imagine it - it would be like killing himself. He and Hannibal are so entwined he can't tell where Hannibal ends and he begins anymore. They've become essential to each other - they're conjoined. Will doesn't think he could survive separation.

And the thing is, he's angry with Hannibal for lying to him, but he also understands. We all hide behind masks when we go out into the world - some people simply have more to hide than others. Will knows what it's like to have dark secrets - he has some of his own, and Hannibal has accepted then without question. Who is he to reject Hannibal entirely because his secrets turn out to be darker than Will's? Will still loves him in spite of it (or, a little voice whispers, perhaps because of it). In spite of everything, Will Graham still loves Hannibal Lecter.

In the end, Will heaves a sigh and lowers the gun, setting it down gingerly on the counter. "No," he admits, "I am not afraid, either of you or of me. Maybe I should be. But no. I'm not afraid."

For the first time, Will sees a flicker of feeling cross Hannibal's face - a softening of the eyes; a slight smile curving his lips. "Good," he says simply. "To answer your question, our relationship has been entirely genuine. I was not expecting to fall in love with you, and yet once I met you, I found I could not look away even if I wanted to. You have bewitched me, Will, body and soul. In regards to your _other_ question… as you have already surmised, yes. I am the Chesapeake Ripper."

Will can only stare in response, and Hannibal's face begins to close off again. "Before you say anything," Hannibal says, "I will give you one chance to run, no questions asked. You can leave this house today, and I will never bother you again. You have my word. One chance to run, Will."

Will takes a deep breath, in and out. He closes his eyes. He centers himself, and listens to the quiet beat of his heart. He opens his eyes, and smiles.

"I don't want to run," he says.

Hannibal smiles back at him, hesitant but real, and Will goes straight into his arms. He sinks into Hannibal's warm embrace, and he doesn't feel afraid. He feels like he's finally coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're skipping ahead, what you need to know is that in this chapter, Will figures out the truth. He confronts Hannibal, and he accepts Hannibal for who he is.  
> Sorry not sorry for the gratuitous Pride and Prejudice reference - I can't help myself!


	8. Every New Beginning

Life goes on. Even when you think it can't, even when it's been shaken to the core, even when you think things have changed too much to go on just like always, life goes on.

Hannibal still drops in on Will's lectures just for the fun of it, much to the amusement of his students. They still go on lunch dates, and they take delight in spending the hour gazing at each other over their plates and playing footsie under the table. They spend their nights together more often than not - Hannibal has a key to Will's place and Will has a key to Hannibal's. Both of them have always been fiercely independent, so they haven't "moved in with each other," per say, but over time Will's things have migrated to Hannibal's and Hannibal's have migrated to Will's, and they are just as comfortable in each other's space as in their own.

Slowly, they are learning to let down their walls and share secrets with each other. Will still wakes from nightmares, but now, instead of waking to confusion and an empty bed, he wakes to Hannibal's soothing words and warm hands. When it's really bad, he'll let Hannibal lead him to the kitchen to make him tea, or warm milk. Hannibal will put his arms around his waist from behind and Will will close his eyes, leaning into the touch. Sometimes, he'll talk, and Hannibal will listen. Other times, they'll just stand together in silence, letting the closeness soothe and comfort them.

Hannibal is also starting to open up. He lets Will down into the basement now, and Will learns to look on it with less horror than he had at first. When Hannibal begins letting Will know when the Ripper is about to start another killing spree, Will takes the news calmly. He doesn't bother telling Hannibal to be careful - Hannibal has avoided suspicion this long, so he obviously knows how to be careful. Will is well aware that Hannibal hopes he will one day join him as the Ripper's partner in crime, but he doesn't press the issue. Will might have acknowledged that he enjoys the sense of power killing brings him, but he still refuses to kill for no reason, and Hannibal seems to accept this.

Then comes the day Will find a reason. He comes home one night and slaps a file down on the table between them. "This one is really bad," he says.

Hannibal looks at him impassively. Then, he picks up the file and flips through the photos. "What do you propose to do about it?" Hannibal says.

Will answers with a smile, slow and dangerous. 

That night, when Hannibal makes love to Will, he doesn't hold anything back. "This is all I ever wanted for you - for us," he says.

Will holds on tight and kisses him, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "It's beautiful," he says.

And the thing is, Will always thought that he would end up alone, and he had been okay with that. But then came Hannibal, and Will knew he had finally found someone who made being together better than being apart. The truth was, he had never known himself as well as he did when he was with Hannibal. They have always been the best versions of themselves when they are together. That, Will thinks, is worth everything. When he looks at Hannibal and sees himself, he is not afraid.

***

E N D

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand it's done! Thank you for reading! I had so much fun writing some softer moments for these two. I am still pretty new to the fandom, so please let me know what you think!
> 
> Playlist for this fic:  
> Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra  
> Demons by Imagine Dragons  
> Animal by Neon Trees  
> Come A Little Bit Closer by Jay and the Americans  
> Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson  
> I Can See Clearly Now by Johnny Nash  
> Swallowed In The Sea by Coldplay  
> Closing Time by Semisonic
> 
> If you are ever interested in doing anything like a podfic or art or translations for any of my fics, I would love that! You don’t need my permission but please do let me know if you do so I can link it (my email is in my profile). Please DO NOT repost my work to any other sites or platforms, however. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter - find me @grahamcracker76!


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